


it suits you

by uraa



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fashion & Couture, Gen, M/M, Sort Of, gratuitous avi glorification, taako and lup swear every other word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 21:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12968463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uraa/pseuds/uraa
Summary: Taako tilts his head. Focus. “Who are you wearing right now?” he asks. “What label is your suit?” Kravitz hesitates for a moment and he takes a guess. “Tom Ford?”“I, um,” Kravitz fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves, “I think this one is… Sears?”aka how Taako embarrasses himself and somehow gets a boyfriend in the process.





	it suits you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valdera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valdera/gifts).



> guys i have SO much i wanna say about this fic but im gonna try and keep it short
> 
> \- this is a birthday present for my dearest friend kiri!!! im so sorry its late ;;  
> \- i dont know anything about working for a fashion magazine, fashion in general, alcohol, or living in nyc but i do know abt classical music so thats why theres so much of it in here  
> \- i love avi

So there’s this guy.

Taako leaves his apartment at eight am every morning, give or take a few minutes. And if he’s in the hallway at eight o’clock exactly, as is his goal, he sees the guy next door leaving his apartment, too. The sound of the door down the hall opening and locking shut is like an alarm clock, letting him know that he’s in some deep shit when he’s still curling his hair and the telltale sound of dress shoes click past his door. Some mornings he prays for the guy to have overslept, just so he can feel a little less guilty as he burns his fingers on the curling iron and sweeps on foundation with the desperation of a man negative five minutes to the arrival of his subway, but Taako doesn’t think the guy’s been late in over a year. From the look of him, Taako doesn’t think he has it _in_ him to be late. No one who arrives late wears suits that look that good. And this guy looks very, very good.

Here’s the second part of the story: Taako hates suits. He hates them with an intensity normally only reserved for cafeteria food and people who cut in line at department stores. He’s never understood why men’s dress wear is confined to boring monotone ensembles when gowns come in a practical cornucopia of colors and cuts and styles. As much as menswear magazines try to convince him otherwise, he can’t see past the monotony of dress slacks and jackets and ties. Suits are boring. Suits are for _businessmen._ And Taako may be a sizzling hot self-made entrepreneur, but he knows with certainty that the briefcase-carrying, board-meeting-attending life is not for him. He’d rather quit his job than wear an up-and-down black and white ensemble, as hard as Lup tries to change his mind.

(“Suits are the fuckin’ _essence_ of style,” she had begged, scrolling through pictures of sultry men in clean Italian cuts on Pinterest. “How hot would Chris Hemsworth be without this suit?”

“Not my type,” Taako had said dismissively, and tapped over to a lineup of red carpet dresses. “Fan Bingbing in Elie Saab, Cannes Film Festival 2017, though? Stunning.”

Lup had pushed him off the couch and buried her face in the cushions.)

She would be laughing her ass off if she could see him now.

He checks his makeup in the mirror in the living room as he waits for the familiar sounds of his next-door neighbor’s exit. He’s trying to pretend like this is necessary, like he just wants to make sure he hasn’t gotten mascara smudged under his eyes before he leaves. But then he jumps as he hears the click of a door handle being turned one wall over and figures he can’t lie to himself completely this time.

Taako’s a good actor--a _baller_ actor, to put it in Lup’s words--so he does a pretty flawless job of feigning nonchalance as he steps out of his apartment and locks the door behind him.

The man glances over and smiles at him politely as per usual, then turns to walk the opposite way down the hall, his impeccably cut pants swishing.

“Hey,” says Taako.

The man stops and turns around. His skin is fucking flawless and he looks way too awake for eight am. “Good morning?”

Fuck. This is awkward. He’s _never_ awkward, he’s the polar opposite of awkward, he’s the chillest guy on the surface of the planet. He tries to ignore how his hands are sweating around his keyring.

But this is for the betterment of the fashion world.

“Hey,” he says again, “name’s Taako, style editor for Vogue.”

The man’s eyebrows jump up. “I’m- uh- hi. I’m Kravitz.”

“Kravitz, sweet, nice name. Just a quick question.”

“Uh,” Kravitz says. He looks unnecessarily apprehensive for a guy just having a normal conversation about haute couture with a neighbor. “Sure.”

Taako’s brain is in three different places at once, eyes flicking from Kravitz’s polished shoes to the sleek cut of his button-up to the gold bands around his locs to his glowing cheekbones, pausing on the cheekbones because god, what is his skincare routine? What is his _workout_ routine?

Taako tilts his head. Focus _._ “Who are you wearing right now?” he asks. “What label is your suit?” Kravitz hesitates for a moment and he takes a guess. “Tom Ford?”

“I, um,” Kravitz fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves, “I think this one is… Sears?”

Taako laughs, even if the joke was poorly executed. “Oh, hell yeah, and I got a tux custom made from Target. No really, bubbleh. Armani? Second guess.”

Kravitz looks uncomfortable. “No, I-- really, it’s really Sears. Or maybe JC Penny. Not sure.”

“...You’re tryna tell me that suit is from an appliance store. You got it tailored, then?”

Kravitz spreads his arms in a helpless gesture. “No?”

“You bought it factory-made from Sears and Roebuck the appliance store.”

“They do sell things other than appliances, too. Like this suit.”

Ouch. Taako stands there with his mouth half-open for a good ten seconds, trying to think of something to say that might save the last scraps of his reputation. He’s a style editor for Vogue, for god’s sake, he’s been stopped for countless photos six goddamn New York Fashion Weeks in a row. He knows when you can pull off cheap mass-made clothes, and he’s all about a good deal, but a suit isn’t something you can look good in straight off the rack. He’s never seen someone pull off a department store suit before.

He tries and discards a hundred excuses in his mind, but all he can spit out after all the searching is, “what?”

“Sorry,” Kravitz says. His eyes dart to the floor, but it can’t hide the smile he’s trying to stifle. “Yeah, just Sears. I think they’re having a sale right now… if you’re interested…”

Taako is simultaneously so embarrassed and so insulted that he’s frozen in place. “If I’m interested,” he echoes. “You-- you think I would be-- in _my_ line of work I would be--”

“Shit.” Kravitz startles suddenly and yanks back the cuff of his probably cheap probably polyester suit to check his watch, and it looks just as classy as the rest of him. Where did he get that? Walmart? “Work. Sorry, I’m really late to work,” he says. “Nice talking to you, though. Funny how we always leave at the same time.”

“Yeah, my guy,” says Taako distantly, “hilarious.”

“Well, uh, see you around.” Kravitz gives him an awkward wave and disappears down the stairwell, taking all of Taako’s dignity and self-confidence with the last glimpse of his perfectly suited figure.

Taako thinks he might have to call in sick.

 

…

 

Monday, December 4

taako 9:54 am: pls tell me im not losing my touch

taako 9:54 am: _attached: IMG_4578_

lup 9:56 am: oh fuck

lup 9:56 am: bro u look killer why

lup 9:56 am: also where tf are u lol

taako 9:58 am: dont give me shit for this

lup 9:58 am: theres a very small chance of that but go ahead

taako 9:59 am: i know u have awful boring taste in mens fashion so its not that bad saying it to u

lup 10:00 am: ur no shit chances are dropping rapidly

taako 10:03 am: i thought this guys suit was designer so i asked him what label it was

taako 10:03 am: it was from sears

lup 10:03 am: AHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHHHAHAAHAAHAAHAHAAHAHA

 

…

 

“I can’t believe you called in sick because you embarrassed yourself in front of your neighbor.” Lup kicks the door shut and sets her paper grocery bag down on Taako’s coffee table. “You’re so fucking extra. I love you.”

“Shut up,” Taako mumbles from underneath his pile of blankets on the couch. “I’m trying to watch Say Yes to the Dress.”

“Ew, are they still selling that Pnina to literally every person who walks in the door? It’s the ugliest fuckin’ dress I’ve ever seen.”

Taako looks to the screen, where a woman is trying on a ballgown with a sheer corset bodice, and back at Lup wordlessly.

“Jesus, they’re still at it,” she mutters. “Well, I’ve got tomatoes and fresh pasta, so, like, if you wanna get off your ass at some point today…”

“What kind of pasta?”

“Orecchiette. From a place in Little Italy.”

“...What kind of tomatoes?”

“I dunno, they’re heirlooms, though. Wrong season and they’re kinda small, I thought we could just saute them or some shit. Like, some olive oil, some garlic, lemon, nothing fancy--”

“God, okay!” Taako heaves himself to his feet. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” The blanket trails after him as he walks into the kitchen. “I can’t believe you’re killing your brother like this.” He grabs a pack of basil and mutters, “at least I have some shit we can use up.”

Lup tosses him a tomato from the bag. “Are we cooking or not?”

Cooking with Lup is quite possibly the most therapeutic thing in existence. She’s smashed a clove of garlic and put it on medium with the olive oil, and the gentle sizzling is like a whole hour-long meditation session in one pan. As he chops through the tomatoes, he can almost imagine that each soft thunk of his knife against the cutting board is blocking out every word he had said this morning. At least tomatoes don’t wear suits from fucking _Sears_.

Taako breathes out and slides the tomatoes from the cutting board into the pan. “Salt?”

Lup hands it to him and and says, “So what’s up with this hot next door neighbor you’ve got?” She pauses. “That wasn’t supposed to rhyme.”

“Jesus.” Taako rolls his eyes and goes to fill a pot of water in the sink. “I need a drink. I’m too sober for this shit.”

“Gotchu covered.” Lup blessedly, miraculously, pulls a bottle of wine from her paper bag, uncorks it, and hands it to him. “Thought you might need it.” Taako takes a long pull straight from the bottle. “Better?” she asks.

Taako holds up a finger, takes a couple more long swallows, and sets the bottle down next to the stovetop with a heavy clunk. “Nah.”

“Oh, c’mon, Koko,” whines Lup, and reaches up to rest an elbow on his shoulder. “Is it really that bad?”

“I mean.” Taako hesitates and grimaces. “Guess not. But like.”

“Mhm, but like,” Lup echoes knowingly, and they both share a look. But like he doesn’t want to. But like it’s easier to make a big deal out of it so the embarrassment will hit a little less hard, and he’s not using up his sick days anytime soon. Drama is both their middle names; it’s not like this hasn’t happened before.

Taako Drama Taaco. Taako D. Taaco. That actually has a nice ring to it.

They cook the pasta and let the tomatoes simmer down and plate it all with the basil and a little lemon. Taako lights his duck-shaped votive (a belated birthday present from Magnus), and they grab the wine and plop down on the couch. The show’s changed to Cake Boss and they both look on intently.

“This is some fucking dope-ass pasta,” says Lup around a mouthful of orecchiette.

Taako rolls his eyes. “Well, duh. Who do you think made it?” He leans back into the cushions and watches the light from the TV flicker across their plates and decides he needs to answer his own rhetorical question. “Ch’a boy right here, king of chefs this side of Manhattan.”

Lup snorts. “Sure, but what did the king of chefs mistake for a designer suit not twelve hours ago?”

Taako gives her the most intense side-eye he can muster.

“No, I mean, but, Koko.” Lup laughs and sets her plate to the side and tucks her legs under her. “That’s actually like-- really weird for you.”

“No fucking shit.”

“I know you don’t know the miracle that is a well-fitted, high-quality suit, but you do see them, like, every day at work. I know I do.”

“Oh, like Avi? Hell yes, that suit yesterday did _things_ for him. That suit moved goddamn mountains for him.” Taako pauses, realizes that that came out unintentionally strongly pro-suit, and quickly amends his statement. “The usual button-ups, though? Miracle workers daily.”

If Lup notices his slip, she doesn’t comment on it. “So it’s his clothes that do things for him? Are you lowkey shading Avi?”

“Heck no.” Taako takes a drink. “The button-ups work specifically because he has the pecs to fill them out. Nah, Avi’s my main man. My number one.”

“True, honestly-- the hair, the eyes, the chillability--”

“ _Um,_ the insane bourbon he has on him at all times.”

“God,” sighs Lup. “Remind me to ask him what it is when I see him again.” Taako taps his temple, pretends to jot it down like a secretary with mock-seriousness. She laughs. “It’s fuckin’ crazy, though. If we asked the entire editorial department who their favorite person was, Avi would be at the top.”

“Duh. Especially for Magnus.”

“Mags getting that sweet sweet bro-on-bro action.”

“Mags the cross-fit enthusiast that started after seeing Avi at the gym.”

“Mags ‘it’s not my fault that my dog likes Avi so much’ Burnsides.”

“Mags the living embodiment of two bros chillin’ in a hot tub, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay.”

“Mags and..” Lup is momentarily stumped. “Wait, fuck, my point. I had a point before Avi--”

“Blessed be thy name,” Taako adds.

“Our Father Avi, who art in heaven, hallowed be-- no, but seriously.” She turns to face him fully. “I asked him about his suit and he said he got it custom made. My point is, you’ve _seen_ good suits, Koko. You know good fashion pretty well, imo.”

“Oh, back to the suits,” says Taako lightly. “Alright. Okay.”

“Like, even as dumb as you are, how well did he wear that suit to make you think it was designer?”

“Pretty fuckin’ well,” Taako mumbles.

“Koko, can you get this guy’s number?”

Taako pauses, blinks, and fixes her with a look. “Did you just ask if your dearest brother Taako “The Mongoose” Taaco could get a man’s number? Taako from TV? The OG, the one and only Taako™?” He sits back on the couch. “Believe me, hon, I can get his number.”

“Sweet, let me know what it is and I’ll text him.” Lup pulls a wrinkled business card from her jeans pocket and hands it to him. “Give him this. Wanna know if he’s interested in modeling or some shit for the next issue.”

Taako squints at the card. “Lulu, you haven’t even seen him. This is like stopping someone in the street, but like, even stupider.”

“Nah, I trust your judgement.” Lup leans back and crosses one leg over the other in a self-satisfied way. “You have decent taste in guys.”

Taako regards her for a few seconds. “Hm.” He’s not sure if he should be happy at the compliment or embarrassed because his lapse had been so huge that Lup was willing to hire a guy to model without even seeing him. “I’m gonna go ahead and say thank you.”

They both try to stay away from each others’ respective love lives as much as possible, because thinking about Lup and Barry involved in anything more explicit than hand-holding makes him want to vomit, but sometimes there’s a tiny nudge in a certain direction. A little rerun of high school when they both went through three relationships a week and a ban on the subject was unavoidable. “Okay. Give me a day to get Krav’s number.”

“You know his name?” says Lup with an insulting amount of incredulity.

“Yeah, we did have an actual conversation about an actual topic like normal fuckin’ people.”

“Congrats, Koko, you’re moving from stalker territory to genuine human being.”

“Fuck off.”

 

…

 

Taako spends a stupidly long time inside of his walk-in closet the next morning, waffling between two light cotton button-ups with a nervousness he thought he had outgrown, but he makes it to the door with time to spare. He finishes the rest of his mango-coconut chia pudding and scrolls through emails on his phone, one eye on the time at the top of the screen. When the clock hits eight am and there’s no telltale sound nextdoor, he feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin. And it’s _stupid._ He waits five anxious minutes before he tells himself that if Kravitz doesn’t come out in the next thirty seconds, he’s either already gone or Taako leaves him behind.

On second twenty-five, he hears the door open and his heart does a barrel roll.

“Hey,” he says, as he jumps into the hallway to catch the tail end of Kravitz’s exit. “Late today?”

Kravitz looks up quickly, startled. “That’s my se-- uh-- I mean. Yeah, I guess I am.”

Taako fights back a laugh. “That’s your secret, you’re always late?”

Kravitz looks caught on the razor’s edge between mortification and laughter. “I--”

“That’s the most relatable thing I’ve heard all morning.” Taako leans against the wall and flips his hair over one shoulder, starting to hit his stride. “Aren’t we all.”

Kravitz frowns. “I mean, have you talked to anyone else this morning? The competition doesn’t seem very stiff.”

Taako takes the hit. “Fair point.” There’s a beat of awkward silence while he tries to think of something to say. “So what’s the brand today? Walmart?” The suit looks basically identical to the last and Kravitz still looks fucking amazing in it.

Kravtiz’s eyes widen. Lucky guess. “It was made by some Italian guy, if that helps at all.”

“Absolutely not, my dude.” Taako pushes himself off the wall and walks a few steps forward. “Unless Brioni is suddenly selling at discount stores.” This close he can tell that he’s actually barely taller than Kravitz, which is pretty sweet. Also, his skin is just as flawless up close as it is far away and he’s not wearing foundation. Fuck people with naturally perfect skin.

Kravitz smiles helplessly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Paris based company; started in Rome, though. Since 1945,” says Taako, feeling like he needs to make up for yesterday. “I may hate suits, but fuck me if I can’t tell you about them.”

“You hate--? What do you wear to work, then?”

“You’re looking right at it.” Taako winks as Kravitz’s gaze falls from the oversized sunglasses on his head to his trailing scarf to his black harem pants and Nikes.

“Lax dress code.”

“It’s called working in the fashion industry, baby.” He tilts his head. “Where do _you_ work, to have to wear a suit every day?”

“I’m part-time. At the MOMA and the Philharmonic.”

Taako can feel himself smiling delightedly. “No shit, I was there last Saturday,” he says, jumping onto the connection. The surprise in Kravitz’s expression is delicious. “Do you play?”

“No, uh, I conduct. I’m a very assistant-y assistant conductor.”

Taako’s eyebrows jump. “Damn, I’m looking at the next maestro?”

“No!” Kravitz laughs in that off, self-contained way, how you laugh when someone’s touched a sensitive subject. “Jesus, no, I just fill in sometimes.” He smiles quizzically. “No offense, though, but you don’t really seem like the type of person to be into classical music.”

“Shit, I know.” Taako rolls his eyes and thinks of the long list of albums in his iTunes folder, all gifts from Barry. “Yeah, my sister’s boyfriend dragged me out. But it honestly wasn’t half bad, like, Vivaldi’s got some pretty hardcore stuff-- and oh, wait, yeah--”

“Yeah?”

Taako fishes out the business card from his bag. “My sister wants you to model for our next issue, no strings, no contract or anything. She’s got her email on there, but,” he watches Kravitz turn the card over to where Taako’s number is scrawled on the back. “Text me if you have any questions, yeah? She never responds very fast.”

Kravitz looks lost with the card in his hands. “Uh.”

“Taako, t to the double a to the k-o, if you wanna put that in your contacts.”

“What?”

“In your contacts, Krav.” Taako smiles as winningly as he knows how. “If you wanna put a name to the number.”

“Oh.” Kravitz stares at him in a way that Taako can’t read, lips slightly parted. “I’ll do that.”

And suddenly it hits him like a wave, and fuck if he doesn’t kind of want to pull him into his apartment and make out for the next hour and fuck if everything he learned in the conversation only made him more attractive and fuck if he’s already anticipating his text and fuck. This is embarrassing.

“Well, it’s balls o’clock and I’ve definitely missed my subway,” Taako says. “Gotta go. Text me later?”

“Shit.” Kravitz checks his watch desperately, already backing towards the stairwell, but it doesn’t stop him from looking up, making eye contact, and smiling. “Yeah. Text you later, Taako.”

And, well. He’d be lying if he said the smile wasn’t kind of amazing.

 

…

 

Tuesday, December 5

taako 9:46am: ok so did u set me up on purpose

lup 9:46am: lmao what

lup 9:46am: did you get the guys number

taako 9:48am: lulu i just wanna know. was it a setup

taako 9:48am: idk if i read the twin vibes right last night

taako 9:48pm: also uve never successfully wingmanned for me in ur life so

lup 9:49am: LMAO what happened??

lup 9:49am: i mean no i seriously want this guys number

lup 9:49am: did u get it

taako 9:50am: yeah he texted me and i had a literal fucking heart attack and now i have to text him back

taako 9:50am: heres his number

taako 9:50am: ###-####-####

lup 9:52am: oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo shit

lup 9:52am: i take it back i definitely set u up

lup 9:52am: someone get the worlds best sister award over here!!!

lup 9:52am: im coming in hot!!!!!

taako 9:57am: lol keep telling urself that

lup: 9:58am: love u too

 

…

 

Taako sits at his desk, puts his head in his hands, and looks down at his phone.

 _Hey, it’s Kravitz :)_ is staring back up at him innocently. He’s been trying to think of a response for ten minutes straight now and he feels more and more ridiculous with every passing second.  
“Taako, you wanna check in on the shoot? I feel like we can’t start the cover concepts until--”

“Avi, my fucking man.” Taako raises his head and sees Avi’s dark hair silhouetted in light from the window like he’s descending from heaven, which, in Taako’s case, he kind of is. “You got bourbon on you?”

Avi takes a flask from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, which admittedly does look killer on him. He pops the cap open, considers the contents inside a little regretfully, and hands it to him.

Taako nearly drains it, and after a moment of guilty consideration, hands the flask back to him with a folded up twenty. “Sorry. Buy yourself some more.”

Avi frowns. “That rough, huh?”

“What’s rough?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone for the last ten minutes.” Avi glances over to see the single offending text on the screen and blessedly, doesn’t say anything more than “huh.” He looks at Taako for a long second. “He nice?”

Taako sees Lup enter the room over Avi’s shoulder. “Uh, yeah. It’s just a text--”

“They’ve had exactly two fuckin’ conversations,” says Lup as she passes by his desk.

Avi considers this. “Huh,” he says again.

Taako’s gonna put salt in her coffee as soon as he gets the chance.

“We’ve seen each other every morning for a year,” he says, trying not to sound too desperate. “His apartment is next to mine. Nothing big.”

“Sounds promising,” says Avi with a smile. “You should probably reply. Don’t leave him on read or anything. I know you have it turned on.”

Taako winces. “Yeah, I know.” He’s left Avi on read a few too many times to be acceptable, but Avi, the bro that he is, never complains.

“Just say hey back.” Avi turns to go. “I’m gonna check out the photoshoot. I think Mags has some good tips if you, uh, need any help.”

Taako is so bowled over by the fact that Avi thinks Magnus could give him flirting tips that he doesn’t respond. Magnus giving _him_ flirting tips. Magnus whose first words to his wife were “what do you _mean_ no dogs on the beach?” followed by a heated argument that ended up with him in the ER for a broken elbow.

He turns back to his phone with insulted determination.

 

taako 12:22pm: hey krav ;)

taako 12:22pm: the shoot is the thirteenth if ur wondering

taako 12:22pm: 10-2

kravitz 12:25 pm: Are you going to be there?

taako: 12:27pm: yup

taako 12:27pm: did u email lup or anything?

kravitz 12:28pm: Yes but she hasn’t responded

taako 12:29pm: lol yeah ill tell her to get on that

 

He bites his lip and stares at the screen for a couple long minutes, rewriting his next text over and over in his head. It’s only when he looks up and finds Lup staring at him with a badly-concealed laugh that he gets insulted enough to actually send it.

 

taako 12:30 pm: hey u free saturday?

 

He gets up to walk to Lup’s desk, takes a small detour to the kitchen to grab the salt shaker, and tucks it in his pocket. She doesn’t even look up at him as he approaches. Fucking rude, but it does give him time to scout out her mug.

“What’s up, Koko,” she says. She’s painting her nails a deep, glossy red and somehow they’re perfectly neat. Taako can see piles of unsigned papers scattered around her. Typical.

“Ooh, what color is that?” he asks, scooting around to the other side of her desk and looking over her shoulder. She’s spun sideways on her desk chair and her coffee mug is left defenseless behind her. Rookie move.

“Julep in Demi. Got it as a sample.”

“Got any left over for me?” Taako takes the salt out of his pocket and shakes some into the mug, enough to be noticeable but technically not entirely gag-worthy. He’s not quite that mean.

“Buy your own,” says Lup distractedly as she scrapes away excess polish on the corner of her nail. “I’m sure your new boyfriend would be happy to.”

Taako unscrews the lid of the salt shaker and dumps it all in.

“Hm, yeah, speaking of Krav. What if he comes over on Saturday?”

“Sure, whatever.” Lup finally looks up at him with a teasing smile. “Introducing him to the family? So soon?”

“Introducing him to the _friendgroup_.” Taako pockets the shaker and steps back. “We don’t even really know him. It would be rude to have a party and not invite your next door neighbor, right?”

“Not really.”

Taako rolls his eyes. “So he can come.”

“Who am I, your mom?” Lup screws the cap back on the polish and absentmindedly reaches for her coffee. “Fuck if I care. Yeah, I’m sure Mags will be delighted.”

“Sweet. Love ya, sis.” Taako tries his best not to saunter back to his desk. As he goes, he calls, “can you respond to your emails within a week, for once?”

Lup mouths ‘fuck you’, knocks back her coffee, and chokes. Her eyes go wide with fury and betrayal, her mouth squeezed into a horrified line. The coffee goes spraying across her desk.

Taako laughs so hard he has to sit down.

 

kravitz 2:32pm: Yeah I am :)

kravitz 2:34pm: Why?

taako 2:35pm: some of my friends are coming over to my place around 5-6

taako 2:35pm: wanna join? theres gonna be football and bacon wrapped pineapple

taako 2:35pm: maybe caprese bites we’ll see

taako 2:35pm: pretty chill

kravitz 2:37pm: Can’t say I’m much of a football guy but bacon wrapped pineapple sounds interesting

kravitz 2:37pm: Sure, why not. Thanks for inviting me

taako 2:39pm: wear something fun ;)

 

…

 

Wednesday, December 6

kravitz 5:56pm: Sorry to ask, but do you have an egg I could borrow?

taako 5:58pm: MY GUY

taako 5:58pm: u ever had a farm fresh goose egg? bc im about to change ur life

kravitz 6:00pm: Haha no, I’m excited

kravitz 6:00pm: While we’re at it, do you have any tips for making frittatas?

kravitz 6:01pm: The last time I tried it was inedible

kravitz 6:01pm: Like what are cauliflower florets?

kravitz 6:01pm: What does dice mean?

kravitz 6:03pm: I can’t believe I’m making brunch food this is some white people shit

taako 6:04pm: …..krav

taako 6:04pm: do u want me to come over and help?

kravitz 6:05pm: Yes

 

Taako arms himself with a carton of eggs, leftover bacon, and all the spices he can carry. When he knocks on Kravitz’s door five minutes later, he’s not even surprised that he can smell burning eggs from the hallway. Kravitz opens the door, and his hair is pulled back and Taako can see sweat on his face, but on him it just looks like a fantastic highlighter.

“Looks like you need some frittata EMS,” Taako says.

Kravitz grimaces and steps back to let him in. His apartment is almost identical to Taako’s in layout, so he navigates to the kitchen with ease. The furniture is simple and the decorations are tasteful and muted, but Taako recognizes signs of panicked mornings everywhere. There’s discarded shoes cluttering the entrance and a toothbrush sitting on the coffee table. A towel and two coats are thrown over the back of the couch along with a nearly used up link roller.

“Wow, Krav, you live like this?”

Kravitz’s expression drops, suddenly uncertain. “Sorry, I should have cleaned up before--”

“Oh, no no no, my man!” Taako interrupts. “My bad, I was just joking. Seriously, I live like this too, I’m always late to my subway.”

Kravitz’s shoulders relax and he smiles. “Not so hurried that you don’t have time to ask about a suit, though?”

Taako almost flips him off casually before he realizes that not everyone takes that as easily as him and Lup do. “Bros in being late,” he says instead. He sets his ingredients down and looks at the spread of half-chopped vegetables on the counter. “Okay, doesn’t seem like _too_ bad of a start.”

“I burned the first batch of eggs,” says Kravitz mournfully.

“Good thing we’ve got a dozen more. You got a recipe?” Kravitz points to his phone, which is propped up on the counter. Taako scans through it and wrinkles his nose. “You’re right, this is seriously some white people shit.” Kravitz lets out a startled laugh, and Taako hands his phone back to him. “We’re gonna go off-road, and cha’boy right here’s gonna be your guide.”

Kravitz tightens his ponytail. “What do I do?”

“Cooking lesson number one: you’re gonna dice the onion.” He holds a finger up as Kravitz’s expression turns fearful. “Gotta start with the hard shit, Krav. Cooking involves blood, sweat, and tears. Emphasis on the tears.”

Taako walks him through the basic steps of peeling and dicing the onion, and turns back to the eggs when he seems like he’s got it down. Stinging tears are collecting in his eyes just from being near it, but Taako ignores them in favor of cracking and beating the eggs. He settles into a comfortable rhythm, easy, like he’s making breakfast on Saturday morning while Lup drinks her coffee at the kitchen table.

Cooking is so damn relaxing.

He’s about halfway through when he notices Kravitz is staring at him. He glances sideways and winks. “Like what you see?”

“You’re, like,” Kravitz swallows. “You crack them with one hand. You’re _good_.”

“Thanks, bubbeleh,” says Takao, frozen with egg white still dripping from his hand into the bowl. “Glad to know that year of culinary school was worth something.”

Kravitz smiles incredulously. “The more I learn about you the more-- I mean, where did you go?”

“Paris,” says Taako in his best accent. “Best year of my life. It’s where I got into fashion. Wish I could’ve stayed longer, but, y’know. Sometimes that’s just how it be.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Mm, money got tight.” Taako shrugs. “Wasn’t really worth it anymore, I guess. And my sister was back in the States. We lived in LA for a bit, actually.” He purses his lips. “That got hella expensive too.”

“And now you’re here,” says Kravitz thoughtfully. “I can’t believe you’re living right next to me, out of all places.”

Taako tilts his head. “You act like I’m a celebrity. I could get used to this.”

“No, you just--” Kravitz is gesturing with his knife, but Taako’s not about to interrupt his compliment to tell him to put it down. “I’m a guy from Indiana with a degree in conducting and negative fifty cents in my bank account, and you’ve been around the world, you have a great job, you’ve got your shit together--”

Taako laughs out loud. “Krav. You sure about that last one?”

“Have you looked in a mirror, ever, at all?” Kravitz throws his hands up. “You’re wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and it looks incredible and your eyeliner is so sharp it could kill someone. You just-- Taako, I’m gonna be honest, you really look like you know what’s going on.”

“I’m.” To his horror, Taako can feel himself just starting to blush. Fuck no. Taako doesn’t do blushing, ever, in any situation, no matter how sappy. It’s disgusting and he’s disgusted with himself. “I’m flattered. But you act like _you_ don’t have your shit together, Mr. Assistant Conductor of the Philharmonic.”

“I can’t even make a frittata.”

“Yeah, and I don’t know the difference between Mozart and Choppin’.”

“Chopin,” Kravitz corrects, laughing.

“Same difference.” Taako rolls his eyes, slides the onion into a bowl, and sets a head of cauliflower in front of him. “My guy, let’s make your frittata. It’s gonna be so fuckin’ well seasoned you won’t even know it’s white people food.”

Kravitz raises an eyebrow. “Is it still white people food if it’s not made by white people?”

“It’s Taako Food™,” says Taako. “Taako brand, officially Taako sanctioned. So hold onto your ass, ‘cause it’s gonna be incredible.”

 

…

 

Thursday, December 7

kravitz 3:34am: How long does a frittata keep

taako 3:35am: a few days idk

taako 3:35am: why

kravitz 3:36am: JESUS TAAKO GO TO SLEEP

taako 3:36am: why are u my mom

taako 3:36am: also ur up too lmao i call bs

kravitz 3:36am: Don’t u have work tomorrow

taako 3:36am: dont u

kravitz 3:36am: I’m watching the great British baking show

taako 3:37am: FUCK krav thats the best show in the world

taako 3:37am: what season dont get me started on those fuckin swiss rolls in ep 1

taako 3:37am: and the guy who fucking sliced his sponge bc that was goddamn sacrilege

taako 3:37am: i could see marys face and u know u dont mess with mary

taako 3:37am: and it didnt work either lmao he should have known like as soon as he started rolling i knew

taako 3:37am: he didnt get eliminated that ep tho i was so pissed like LITERALLY EVERYONE KNEW

kravitz 3:38am: Go to sleep

taako 3:38am: ok

 

…

 

It’s a quarter to six on Saturday and Taako knows he’s in some deep shit when Lup gets up on a dining room chair and claps her hands.

“Hey nerds,” she yells. Everyone’s heads turn automatically, used to this form of address from years of knowing her. “That’s right, listen up, losers. Love you all.”

“Uh, babe,” says Barry, looking up at her from his spot on the couch with some concern, “what’s going on?”

“Love you more, hon.” Lup blows a kiss in his direction and ignores his question. “From the moment I was born,” she announces, “it has been my sole responsibility as Taako’s big sister to beat him in every aspect of his life.” She holds up a hand and closes one finger, counting items off a list. “More boyfriends? Done. Better fashion sense? Done. Better chef? You bet your ass that’s fucking done.”

Taako lays his head down next to the cutting board and accepts his fate.

“There’s a guy next door that my lil bro has it bad for, and I mean _no shit_ has it bad, and he’s gonna be coming over sometime soon.” Lup is beaming. “Just letting you know so you all can be as embarrassing as possible. Pull out the robot arm collection. Merle, wave the prosthetic around. Everyone put on the red robes from our Halloween costumes so we look like a goddamn cult.” She snickers at the image. “Because I’m not gonna let my brother fuckin’ beat me at dating. That’s it.” She hops down from the chair and pushes it neatly back in.

The small group of people in the room exchange glances. Merle looks overjoyed at the chance to pull one of his favorite pranks. Magnus looks pensive, which is a worrying look on him. Davenport looks confused. Lucretia looks extremely concerned.

“That’s for the salt in my coffee.” Lup flicks her braid over her shoulder as she swings by him in the kitchen to open the fridge.

“Hm,” says Taako, picking up his head and going back to slicing pineapple, “fuck you.”

“No thanks, Koko, but I know someone else who might.” Lup stops in her tracks and pulls a face. “Oh, god, ew. No. I never said that. Gross.”

Taako, having lived that disgust every time Lup came home with hickeys on every inch of her neck, lets her go. He sees, with horror, that Magnus is actually pulling a few spindly metal arms from his pocket and squinting at them. Merle’s prepping for his arm-falling-off prank.

The doorbell rings.

Taako moves as goddamn fast as he’s ever moved in his life to get there before anyone else. “Hey, Krav,” he says. He takes a quick cursory glance at his outfit and his tongue swells up in his throat. “Ooh. That’s. Your idea of ‘wearing something fun’.”

Kravitz, adorably, fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves. “You said you didn’t like suits, so I just thought-- should I change…?”

“Ohhh no. Nonono, my man, you are.” Taako swallows and drags his eyes up from the clingy sweater. “You are so good.”

Kravitz smiles all the way up to his eyes. “You look nice, too.”

“I…” Taako’s hair is still in a messy bun from cooking and he’s wearing an old t-shirt under a “kiss the cook” apron. “Appreciate it, Krav, but false flattery isn't gonna get you anywhere.” He turns away from the doorway. “Hey guys, so this is--” He stops when he realizes the room is completely silent. They had all been listening in on his conversation.

“Wow, what a room full of genuine, true friends,” Taako says. “Thanks for the warm welcome, guys.”

On cue, everyone turns towards each other and begins to make halting conversation again. Magnus mouths what might be ‘sorry’ from across the room.

Lup saunters over to the door. “Kravitz, yeah?” She sticks out her perfectly DIY manicured hand. “I’m Lup, this loser’s big sister.”

“By thirty seconds,” Taako adds.

“Mmmmmmbut who’s older, though.”

“But what does the birth certificate say.”

“But what does--”

“Nice to meet you, Lup,” Kravitz wisely interrupts. “You’re the creative director for Vogue?”

“Oh, hell yes. Definitely. Did Taako tell you that?”

“She just does accessories,” Taako sighs. “ _Not_ menswear.”

“Neither do you,” Lup shoots back. “And he’s not even wearing a suit, Koko, give me something to work with.”

“Will you let a poor guy come in?” Magnus calls from the couch, and Lup and Taako both sheepishly part to let Kravitz through.

The squad, gathered around the coffee table, awkwardly introduce themselves. To Taako’s delight, Kravitz looks taken with all of them, especially Lucretia, which he understands--they both have similar vibes. Some of them actually get up for a handshake, with Merle bringing up the tail end, and Taako winces. He knows what’s coming.

“Krav, this is Merle, don’t--” The kitchen timer goes off and Taako suddenly remembers his bacon. “Shit. Be right back.”

He rescues the bacon just in time and watches out of the corner of his eye as Kravitz looks at him confusedly.

“Name’s Merle,” he hears, “I’ve heard you’re a real nice guy; welcome to the Merle squad. This is my little group of followers.”

“Maybe I’ll become one of them,” Kravitz laughs. “Nice to meet you.” There’s pure, unsuspecting, genuine kindness in his eyes as he takes his outstretched hand.

He shakes it and Merle’s arm clatters to the floor.

There’s an expectant silence, broken only by Lup’s muffled snickering that she’s trying to hide in Barry’s shoulder. Taako, in that moment, is as close to strangling his friends as he’s ever been. He glances at the window. How far down is the fire escape? How far down is the street? How far could he climb down the side of the building before he fell? His heart is trying to throw itself out out the window before the rest of his body can follow it.

Kravitz just looks stunned, looking from the prosthetic and back to Merle. “Sir, I’m so sorry--”

“Dealing with all of us at once is a real challenge. Thought you might need a hand.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Kravitz laughs.

It’s a big laugh that screws up his face, so uncontrollable and honest that Taako can’t help but smile looking at him. He puts a hand over his mouth and visibly tries to stop himself, but he looks down at the prosthetic on the floor and bursts into another fit. It’s so hysterical that he has to clutch the back of the couch for support, and when he looks up, there are tears in his eyes. He seems to be trying to say something, but for a few seconds nothing but air comes out through his smile.

“I’m sorry--” his voice, high and pinched, is interrupted by giggles, and he’s still smiling so hard his eyes are nearly shut, “I’m sorry, I--” He takes a gasp for breath that only comes out as more hysterical laughter.

Merle is smiling delightedly at the reaction. He reaches up and claps Kravitz on the shoulder. “Welcome to the team. Brownie bite?”

Kravitz accepts the container and takes a seat on the couch, still shaking with suppressed giggles. On either side of him, Lucretia and Magnus exchange amused glances.

“I’m--” Kravitz takes a shaky breath and hiccups out another laugh, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Taako can hear him audibly breathe in and out slowly.

Magnus puts an arm around his shoulder. “I like him,” he calls to Taako. He turns to Kravitz. “I like you.”

“I, uh-- thanks.” Kravitz wipes his eyes, still grinning. “Magnus, right?”

Taako turns back to the counter to wrap up the last of the bacon and pineapple, half distracted by the puff pastry in the oven and how he’s gonna make the caprese skewers, but there’s just something going on in his chest as he sees Magnus and Kravitz talking and smiling. There had been something happening as he watched Kravitz laugh. It’s the way that he just clicks with them all, the way that he genuinely smiles as he listens to Magnus talk about his wife.

He doesn’t know if he likes it or not. So, like everything else, it goes in Taako’s Bottle of Emotions, and he makes sure the stopper is on extra tight.

“So does anyone want to help me back here, or am I just your personal chef now?” Taako calls into the living room. Barry starts to raise his hand, and he winces. “Wait, no. Sorry. You’re good, Barold.” The last time Barry had cooked, he had burned his fried egg into ash and nearly set the kitchen on fire.

“I could give it a shot.” Kravitz smiles bashfully from the couch, and all the way across the room it still beams.

Taako considers. “Okay. You didn’t do too bad last time.”

“Last time?” Lup echoes, wiggling her eyebrows.

Taako flips her off and gestures Kravitz towards the kitchen.

“You wanna skewer the mozzarella?” he asks, pushing the container in front of him.

“Sure,” says Kravitz, and begins poking the toothpicks into the mozzarella balls. “Hey, thanks for inviting me over. Your friends seem really nice.”

“They are,” says Taako automatically. “I mean-- I told Merle not to do the arm thing, but--”

“Oh, shit,” says Kravitz, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh so hard.” He grimaces. “Kinda made myself look stupid. Good first impression.”

“Hell no,” says Taako, “Nah, Krav, they love you. We all like a good laugh here. And honestly, I think that’s the best response Merle’s ever gotten. He’s fuckin’ ecstatic.”

Kravitz lets out a breath. “Maybe I can make it up to them with these, uh-- caprese skewers?”

“You got it.” Taako slips a cherry tomato and basil leaf onto a toothpick. “Like, probably not the best party food right now because tomatoes and basil are both summer plants, but the recipe looked too good not to try it.”

“I have to admit, the food was a big draw factor.”

“Duh.” Taako opens the cabinet above the counter to grab the balsamic vinegar. “If Taako’s catering, you got yourself guaranteed good-ass food.”

“Thanks for helping me with the frittata the other night,” says Kravitz as he watches him search. “Not sure if I ever really thanked you.”

Taako finds himself smiling. “No problem. Would’ve been a crime to let you keep burning eggs all by yourself.”

“And I, uh, I thought it was nice. To have you over.”

Taako glances at him and tries not to smile. He knows if he let himself really get into this goddamn _crush_ he would do something stupid like stutter or blush or burn the puff pastry. It’s not working, but miraculously there’s only kind of a warmth in his chest; no racing heart or shaking hands or anything. Turns out sometimes his brain works with him. Sometimes. “I thought it was nice too,” he says. “Also I think I’m out of balsamic vinegar.”

“Is… that bad?”

“Nah, I’m just gonna run to the store. It’s like a block away, I should be back in five.” He walks to the coat rack in the living room and selects a cashmere scarf. Magnus and Davenport seem like they’re placing bets on the game, and spirits are high. “I’m gonna go to the store for some balsamic,” he calls, “I pay 2k a month for this apartment and if you fuck it up I won’t hesitate to ruin you.”

“Can you get some ice cream?” Barry asks.

Lup turns to stare at him. “It’s like twenty degrees outside.”

“Babe, I want ice cream.” He shifts his gaze back to Taako. “Please?”

“Can you get me some too?” asks Magnus. “Love you.”

“Me too?” says Merle.

“I mean, if you’re there, just get some for everyone,” says Lucretia. “I wouldn’t mind having some either.”

Lup looks around the room in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m friends with all of you.”

Taako shrugs. “Sure,” he says, unfazed, “I’ll get a pint of mint chocolate chip.”

Everyone in the room groans.

“That’s the most disgusting flavor in the world,” says Lup. “Literally no one else on the planet likes green ice cream. This is why I’m a better chef.”

Taako rolls his eyes. “I pay, I choose. Unless anyone else wants to?”

“You’re the one with the six-digit paycheck, bro,” says Magnus.

“Can someone go with him to make sure he buys a real flavor?” asks Lucretia.

There’s another awkward silence until Lup turns her head and looks pointedly at Kravitz, still half in the kitchen, completely lost on the edges of their conversation. “Kravitz does,” she says.

A few more moments of silence, this time thoughtful. “Yeah, he can do it,” says Magnus. “I trust him.”

Taako turns to Kravitz. “You don’t have to.”

“Please, Kravitz,” calls Lup, “for the sake of our taste buds. For the sake of saving my brother from himself.”

“Sure.” Kravitz actually looks really happy, like he thinks forcibly keeping Taako from a pint of ice cream in a drugstore is something he would enjoy. “It’s just down the block, right?”

Taako tosses him a scarf. “We’ll be back in five.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket as they walk out the door.

 

lup 6:34pm: so whos the best wingman huh ;)

taako 6:34pm: definitely still not you

 

…

 

The elevator ride down is quiet, but not too awkward. It probably would have been faster to take the stairs, but he’s not about to walk up _or_ down any more flights than he has to. And elevators are… more romantic? Shit. No they’re not. He’s starting to crack.

“So what’s cookin’ at the Philharmonic?” he asks as they walk outside. “Any Beet-hoven? My boy Lih-suh-teh-z?”

“Liszt?” Kravitz laughs, loud and genuine. “Nah, not this season. Maybe next one, though. We’ve got this famous guest pianist--” He stops in his tracks as the doors to the building close behind them. “It’s snowing.”

“It sure is, my guy,” says Taako, but he’s half distracted by the delightment that fills Kravitz’s face. “Really? You live in New York and snow makes you this happy?”

“But it’s the _first one_ ,” says Kravitz, and then seems to catch himself. “Sorry, yeah. I know it’s cheesy, I just-- yeah. Which way to the store?”

“No no no, Krav.” Taako holds up his hands. “It’s the fuckin’ first snowfall. First one of the year. This shit is special.”

Kravitz smiles up to his eyes. “Thanks, Taako.” Snowflakes are dusting his dark hair, melting on the hand that he holds out to them. “It’s like a dance. Snow is so pretty when it falls, y’know? Sometimes I wish we could do a concert out here. It would ruin all the instruments, obviously, but.” Taako’s not sure whether or not he’s conscious of his outstretched hand moving in a tiny conducting pattern, like he’s imagining what they would play.

It’s adorable. Taako bites his tongue, not trusting himself not to say something sappy and stupid. He just smiles as he listens to Kravitz talk about his concert in the snow, his face glowing in the streetlights. He could probably listen to him talk forever, even if classical music rates about a negative five on the Taako interest scale. It’s the way his eyes light up, how he can’t help but smile as he describes the scene. He’s just. Him.

“Taako?”

Taako blinks, horrified. “Shit. Yeah?”

“I was asking if you’ve heard of Vaughan Williams before.” Kravtiz looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Need me to repeat the question?”

“Do I look like the kind of person who knows who this Von William guy is?”

Kravitz raises an eyebrow. “You knew about Vivaldi.”

“Everyone knows his song, though, the one like--” He sings a refrain. “Y’know?”

Kravitz is still smiling that same, glowing smile. “You have a nice voice.”

“I just sang, like, the world’s shittiest rendition of--”

“Taako,” Kravitz interrupts. “You have a nice voice.”

“Are you just doing this because of the snow thing I said earlier? ‘Cause that was actually genuine. I just didn’t think of it that way before.”

Kravitz rolls his eyes. “Have you never taken a compliment before?”

Taako stops at that, considering, trying to remember all the times someone had praised him. He knows it had to have happened at some point, but he’s drawing a blank. “You’re nice,” he says, finally. “Store’s this way.”

They walk in silence, snowflakes collecting on the tops of their boots and on their jackets. The street is mostly empty and quiet, hushed by the snowfall and the dark. It really is a short walk to the convenience store, past apartment buildings and storefronts. And it’s nice, just the two of them.

Taako’s about to open the store’s door when he feels Kravitz catch at his hand. “Yeah?” he says, turning around. Kravitz’s expression is unreadable.

“Can we just-- talk for a second? I mean, if you’re not too cold or anything.”

Taako’s stomach clenches reflexively at ‘can we talk’, but he just shrugs. “Sure, what’s up?”

Kravitz takes a deep breath, in and out. “You’ve been flirting with me, right?”

Oh, shit. A sudden realization flashes through Taako’s mind--that his gaydar’s been wrong this entire time and Kravitz is actually looking to end this thing going on between them, or no, that he’s just not interested. Maybe he’s just not interested. He clenches his jaw. Shit. “What do you think?” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as anxious as he feels.

“That wasn’t rhetorical,” Kravitz laughs, tugging on the ends of his scarf nervously. “I seriously don’t-- I just want to be sure.”

“Yeah, Krav, I’ve been flirting with you.”

Kravitz’s shoulders relax visibly. “Oh, thank god. I’m so bad at reading signs, you don’t even know--”

“You’re good,” says Taako, absolutely sure that he sounds anxious this time. He’s trying so hard not to think about the worst possible reasons they could be talking in private right now. “Uh, what did you wanna talk about?”

“I feel like I haven’t been giving good signs.” Kravitz laughs again, nervously. “So I just wanted to say, officially… do you want to go out sometime? I don’t know if this is too much because we kind of met five days ago-- you ever feel like Carly Rae Jepsen? Like, ‘hey I just met you, and this is crazy’--”

“You have my number, so-- so date me maybe?” Taako finishes, grinning. The anxiety in his chest lifts like a blanket and he can feel himself breathe again. "I fucking love Carly Rae."

“Right?” Kravitz continues, like he's unable to stop himself now that he's started. “And I just honestly don’t know how I got so lucky with you, you’re so far out of my league I can’t even _believe_ , and you’re so amazing to be around and funny and smart and gorgeous--” Kravitz cuts himself off. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

There’s no stopping it this time; Taako can feel his face burning red as a fire hydrant. “So I don’t embarrass myself,” he gets out, clutching the strap of his bag. “So I don’t do something stupid.”

Kravitz frowns. “What could you do that would be stupid?”

“Anything.” Taako clutches his bag harder. “Krav, okay, first of all, yes I want to date you, but I just--" He looks down, realizing he almost admitted that just being around Kravitz made him want to do the kind of stuff you read in trashy romance novels.

“Taako, that’s not embarrassing. It’s just what boyfriends do.” Kravitz takes a step forward. “I think I’d-- really like it, if you wanted to be sappy.” His hand gently pulls Taako’s hand from his bag. “Okay but you look honestly _so_ uncomfortable, are you good? Seriously, tell me if this is too much. Do you want to--”

“Fuuuuuuck,” Taako says, and kisses him.

It’s a really good kiss. Partially because Taako is an excellent kisser, thank you very much, but also partially because Kravitz’s lips are warm and _so fucking soft_ and when he brings a hand up to cradle his cheek Taako literally melts. And in that moment, as he closes his eyes and deepens the best kiss he’s ever had in his life, he decides, fuck it. If Taako wants to pull him closer so every line of their bodies are touching, if he wants to weave his fingers through his-- fuck, his _boyfriend’s_ hair, then he will.

What would he be missing if he didn’t? The dark, snowy street, the glow through the door of the convenience store, so quiet it feels like it could be just them in the world. The snowflakes catching on Kravitz’s eyelashes and melting on his nose.

It feels too good not to.

“What was that?” Kravitz asks hoarsely as they break for breath. His hand is still cupping Taako’s cheek. “I thought you said-- I mean, I’m not complaining, but I thought--”

“That, my guy,” says Taako, and reaches up to put his hand over Kravitz’s own, “was Taako Taaco deciding to fuck it.”

 

…

 

They do end up arguing for a solid fifteen minutes in the frozen food section over ice cream flavors. They’re cold and wet by the time they get back to the apartment, plastic bags sagging in their hands, and grinning up to their ears.

“I got the ice cream,” Taako announces as he walks in the door, “and also all this other shit because Krav has no impulse control.” He spreads out the junk food on the coffee table. “Apparently peach rings are really good, but I’ve never tried them, so no Taako seal of approval promises.”

“You said you would be back in five,” says Lup pointedly.

“There was some struggling over the ice cream,” says Kravitz. “And the peach rings.”

“For half an hour?”

“You’ve all argued with me over ice cream before, you know what it takes to win me over,” says Taako.

“As your sister and most frequent ice-cream arguer, I can say that it’s never taken that long.”

“As your brother and most frequent ice-cream argument winner, I can say fuck off.”

Kravitz is looking uncertainly between Taako and the rest of the group, doing something with his eyebrows that Taako interprets as ‘can we tell them?’. “We did get other flavors,” he supplies. “So, y’know, it paid off.”

“And…?” Lup asks.

Taako bites his lip. “Fuck it.” That seems to be the phrase of the night. “I’m not gonna fucking keep secrets from you. Yeah, Krav and I hooked up. Now he’s my boyfriend. And I think he’s already got family approval.” Taako takes his coat off and ties his apron back on, wishing he had a mic to drop. “Oh, FUCK.”

“What?” asks Lup, genuinely concerned.

“FUCK,” says Taako again, “I fucking forgot to buy the fucking balsamic vinegar.”

It’s Lup’s turn this week to laugh so hard she has to sit down.

“You got a boyfriend out of it, though.” Magnus winks. “Not a bad tradeoff.”

Kravitz smiles and puts a hand on his arm and then Taako doesn’t have it in him to be mad. “It's not the worst thing in the world,” he admits.

“And take that apron off,” says Merle, gesturing them towards the couch. “We’ve got enough food to last days. The game’s tied.”

“Krav’s not a big fan of football,” says Taako.

“But I’m a big fan of you.” Kravitz looks like he instantly regrets the sentence. “Oh, god, that was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said.”

Taako laughs and pecks him on the cheek. “Join the club.”

**Author's Note:**

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>  [caprese bites recipe](https://iowagirleats.com/2012/02/02/caprese-skewers-with-balsamic-drizzle/)


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